


Samsara

by Xiathia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Dark Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Possessive Dean Winchester, Top Dean, Vampire Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiathia/pseuds/Xiathia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>200 years ago, Dean Winchester lost his brother to murder. Desperate to retrieve the only person he ever loved, he accepted the offer of a very powerful vampire and was made immortal. Now, after years of searching, he has finally found Samuel's soul once again. But trying to convince Sam to accept his offer of eternal life may prove harder than he ever thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carpe Diem

Hesitant footsteps of a very inconspicuous nature padded quietly through the neighboring streets of Kansas City, Missouri, the two-story brown house in which the sound was gearing toward coming into plain view from behind the rows of bark firmly planted within the sturdy ground. The trees surrounding the land capitulated to the will of nature, resulting in the descent of reddish-brown leaves into wavy chestnut strands sitting atop the head of a very ponderous Samuel Colt. He plucked one of the intruding objects off by its stem and ran his fingers through the grooves embedded deep within the rough material, a tiny smile forming on his face as he glanced up at the autumnal foliage floating weightlessly in the cool, crisp air. A sigh of pleasure escaped Samuel's throat, pink lips parting to allow a gasp at the sweet scent of fall permeating his nostrils.

As acute senses transported the young man to a state of spiritual wholeness, long eyelashes fluttered from behind a long succession of crimson-hued leafy boughs, the owner of the delicate strands watching the man's arms extend outwards in a gesture of complete surrender to the power of mother nature. His neck and back arched with stunning grace, gasps of contentment falling from his throat as a gentle breeze swept through the silent neighborhood. The oscillation of chocolate locks reminded the pensive voyeur of ocean waves gliding effortlessly through the clear waters governed by the ivory moon, the angelic sight mesmerizing onlookers with its seraphic brilliance. Like a flower unfurling its pedals, the man standing before his captivated admirer was transcending past the tedious dissimulation so characteristically displayed by human beings, dropping the fake façade in favor of showing off the flawed yet authentic beauty of his true self. The masquerade reserved for the outside world was no longer in place, any traces of a simulated personality fading beautifully beneath the glory of reality.

 _Oh, and what a glory it was_.

A sound in the distance disrupted the moment of tranquility transpiring between both Sam and his devotee, an unwelcome distraction which sent shivers of malice coursing through the veins of the peeping tom hidden in the shadows. Retreating to his place behind the bark of a very large tree, the spying man's green eyes glinted beneath the light of the full moon as he felt a seething hatred erupt from his inner core at the sight of another man approaching his precious Samuel.

"Sam!" the man shouted excitedly.

The bright smile Sam gifted him with made pale white fingers clench painfully into a tight fist, the action leaving crescent-shaped moons inside the angry voyeur's abused palms.

"Ambrose!" Sam yelled, running toward the yard where he could wrap his arms around the man who'd been so callous as to interrupt the peaceful moment the voyeur had been trying to share with Sam. Big arms swung the beautiful boy up in the air with effortless ease, the sight forcing the man in the shadows to turn his head away in disgust.

"I've missed you so much!" Sam whispered, placing a soft kiss to Ambrose's closed lips.

"Me too, baby. God, I'm glad you're here. I've been dying for a movie. Come on. Let's go curl up in front of the TV and watch some Die Hard, eh?"

Sam's laughter echoed through the bare walls of the voyeur's cold heart. Salty tears trailed down the man's cheeks as he watched his love disappear through the front doors of the house in which he lived, the absence of his presence forcing the man outside to look in anguish at the empty spot where he had once been. He could feel the familiar sting of despair spread through every orifice of his shaking body, the feeling reminding him of the last time pain of this magnitude had unmercifully ravaged his tarnished soul.

Refusing to give into the past that's haunted him for nearly two hundred years, the man instead chose to wait until the lights inside Samuel's house were out before climbing up the sturdy foundations and implanting himself directly on top of the window ledge of the boy's bedroom. He pressed his hand against the glass as he looked longingly upon the object of his desire, reveling in the beauty of his long-lost love. After all these years, he'd finally found the soul of his dead brother. The search was over, and the moment of victory was finally closing in.

A sensual sigh escaped the man's parted lips at the long stretch of exposed skin present beneath the blankets covering Samuel's slender frame. Soon he would be able to feel the sensitive flesh through his eager fingertips as he ran his hands all over the body which promised sweet perfection. The cries of the boy underneath him would amplify in pitch from the perverse ministrations being so graciously administered by the thick shaft sliding sensuously in and out of his tight entrance, the skin surrounding the rim dripping wet with his big brother's juices. His creamy white thighs would shake uncontrollably from the intensity of their lovemaking, and from their passion would emerge a pleasure so exquisite, time itself would cease to exist. Bodies and souls would intertwine in an erotic dance of seduction so powerful that Samuel would have no choice but to give in to the temptation of his brother's body.

"We'll be together once more, my sweet Samuel," the voyeur whispered. "I promise you that."

The man beside Samuel turned on his side and threw an arm over the boy's sleeping form, the action causing a low rumble of displeasure to vibrate deep within the voyeur's throat. Turning away from the unpleasant sight, he lifted his head and glared menacingly at the dark sky above his head.

"I can't be weak," he growled. "I  _will_  have him once again. I'll destroy anyone who stands in my way. Even my own heart if need be. Never again will he be taken by another."

Falling to his knees, the man shouted his ownership of Samuel into the night air, a predatory claim warning every being in existence that the boy resting peacefully within the safety of his warm bed belonged to his brother, and  _nobody_  would ever come between that bond ever again.

"He's mine!"

* * *

_Samuel._

_Sam awakened at the whispered hiss of his name, looking around the room in confusion before the voice which called out to him spoke again, the sound more pronounced with the new words reverberating off the bedroom walls._

_Come to me._

_The soft tone voicing the command held a certain aura of danger that Sam chose to ignore, instead rising from his place on the mattress and slowly making his way down a narrow hallway leading to what appeared to be a rather large wooden door. He hesitated for a moment before pulling it open, revealing a room surrounded by candlelight, the orange glow illuminating every nook and cranny of the spacious chamber. A red canopy draped across a king-sized bed resting in the middle of it all, rose petals littering the silk sheets in irregular patterns which poured onto the floor and left a flowery trail from the bed to Sam's feet._

_It all looked so…inviting. The mood created by the various shades of scarlet enticed Sam with its seductive setting, called to him in a song fit for the loveliest of larks and possessed his senses, filling his body with an unbearable ache for the sweet touch of soft fingertips against his sensitive skin. The temptation too much to resist, Sam slowly made his way to the bed and laid into it with ease, sinking into the mattress and staring at the ceiling above with a sleepy smile. Just as he was about to drift off into a comfortable abyss, he felt someone crawling up his body, placing soft kisses along his naked torso until reaching the Adam's apple protruding from his exposed neck. He turned his head to give the owner of the lips more access, sighing in pleasure as possessive arms surrounded his form and squeezed him tight against warm flesh. Hips rolled into his in devilish figure eights, thickening the shaft which now laid hot and heavy between two quivering bellies. The pressure increased as a low growl erupted from the mouth of the person above him, making Sam's eyes roll back into his head in ecstasy. He recognized the familiar scent of peaches and cream before the smooth purr of the man he was starting to know better than himself murmured sweetly into his eager ears words which set fire to every inch of his deprived body, enveloping him in a smothering embrace of unbridled passion._

" _You are so beautiful. Every part of me aches for your touch, my sweet Samuel."_

_Sam's hands struggled against the weight holding them down, wanting desperately to look into the emerald-colored irises he'd drowned in so many times before this night._

" _Let me look upon you, my darling. I want to see your soul reflected through the dark eyes I love so much."_

_The arms around his body tightened in response to his whispered request, the lips against his neck all but disappearing as the stimulating countenance of his lover came into view. Sam sighed at the sight of such indescribable beauty, the perfect symmetry of the man's face assaulting his vision with a weapon that could only have been designed by Aphrodite herself, a deadly blade of overwhelming lust that rendered the victim of its cruel ministrations completely powerless._

" _Invite my tongue into your mouth, Samuel. I want to taste the sweet nectar of those soft lips."_

" _Yes," Sam sighed. "Yes."_

_Moans and groans echoed through the room as the wet cavern of Sam's mouth was invaded by the man above him. He tasted so good, like raindrops in a summer storm. The smitten boy could almost hear the deep rumble of thunder resounding loudly in the walls of his mind, flashes of lightning bursting brightly beneath his closed eyelids._

_Sam groaned in protest when the man pulled away without warning, looking deep into his eyes with an expression so intense, it made Sam cower against the crook of his neck. His fingers laced through the short strands of the man's dark hair, his other hand coming up to wrap tightly around the back of his head._

" _Look at me, Samuel."_

_Sam found the courage to lift his head, ignoring the heavy beating of his frightened heart as he listened intently to the words of his handsome admirer._

" _There is another man in your life. It…pains me to see you in his bed. Why would you do this to me, Samuel? Why be with another when you can have this?"_

_Sam groaned loudly as his jealous lover thrust up into his spread legs, the feel of their cocks sliding against one another creating the most beautiful friction. Sam arched his back with an agonized shout of pure bliss, opening his thighs wider as his roaming hands squeezed the firm globes of the other man's ass._

" _Hmm," the man moaned. "So responsive. My poor, sweet baby needs me inside, doesn't he?"_

" _In-inside where?" Sam asked shyly, his voice barely above a whisper._

_The man leaned in to lick at Sam's parted lips, chuckling darkly as he grasped the boy's cock in his warm hand._

" _Inside you," he responded._

Ambrose awakened to the sound of choked whimpers in the night, blinking up at the black ceiling in confusion before turning to run his hand over Sam's shoulder. Insecurity proliferated in waves through the vast abyss of his tattered psyche as realization washed over him, the moans bursting forth from his lover's mouth nothing more than stolen inflections wasted upon another. These effervescent hallucinations which had so severely been claimed by hours of darkness brought with them a vision of astounding beauty, masses of nonpareil concupiscence that Ambrose found himself incapable of competing with. It was as if this mystery man who kept popping up in Sam's dreams was plotting to steal the kid away from him. Little did he know, Ambrose wasn't about to give up that easily.

Refusing to share Sam with that despicable creature, Ambrose rose to straddle the sleeping boy's thighs before rocking his hips back and forth in quicksilver movements, dragging his nails over taut skin gleaming from the tiny beads of sweat gathering atop the surface of Sam's tanned flesh. A groan of appreciation sounded from the unconscious man underneath him, making Ambrose smirk in triumph at the petty victory. The small morsel of satisfaction he received was short-lived, however, when he felt two hands grip the sides of his thighs with enough force to render him completely immobile. Whimpering in pain, he glanced up into frightened hazel orbs as he waited with labored breaths for the possibility of an unpleasant reaction from his now conscious lover.

Sam's eyes bore into his with an alarming intensity. Time froze beneath the weight of impatience, the only sounds in the room consisting of pounding heartbeats pulsing in rhythm with one another in a strange duet meant to convey the feelings of the two men in which they resided. Finally, as if by some miracle, Sam snapped out of whatever daze he was in long enough to acknowledge his boyfriend's presence.

"You…what were you doing?" he whispered.

Ambrose sighed, removing himself from Sam's legs before sitting beside him on the large bed. "You were dreaming of him again."

Sam stared at Ambrose's hung head with a strong sense of sadness. Contempt for his dream lover flooded his thoughts, evaporating any remaining lust he'd obtained from the man who had claimed him so thoroughly just moments before. Why did he insist on turning Sam's world upside down?

"He's not a real person, Ambrose. There's no need to be so jealous."

"I'm not jealous, Sam. Okay, maybe I am, but it's only because he gets a part of you that I've wanted for so long and I just…it's not fair."

Sam knew what his boyfriend was so upset about long before he'd actually opened up his mouth. Picking imaginary lint off his pajama pants, he struggled to keep his body as relaxed as possible while ignoring the overwhelming urge to shrivel up into a ball in the corner of the bedroom.

"I've never done anything in these dreams involving actual penetration," Sam mumbled. "You've got to believe me. I know what it is you want and I know I've been a terrible boyfriend by refusing to share my body with you but you've got to understand…I'm just not ready. I may not be able to control much of what happens in my head when I'm sleeping but I know for a fact that I've never so much as had a finger inside me during these dreams. You've got to believe me. I would never allow that to happen. I want you, Ambrose. I've always wanted you."

Reaching a hand out to stroke his lover's face, Sam fashioned his mouth on the other man's with an eager need to soothe away any trace of pain left behind by the awful night, moaning softly as Ambrose pushed his back into the silk sheets of their four-poster bed. Lips, teeth and tongue greeted his exposed nipples with the gentleness of a feather, the warmth of his mouth eliciting a low-pitched groan from Sam. It was only when he felt hands disappear beneath the waistband of his pants that he snapped back to reality, grabbing at the wrist resting on his stomach.

"Ambrose," he whispered. "Please stop."

Ambrose let out a sigh of frustration and pulled himself away from Sam, flopping on his back and staring absentmindedly out the window to his right. When Sam protested, he raised a hand in the boy's face without so much as glancing his way.

"I'm tired, Sam. Just go to bed so that we don't fight again, okay?"

Sam nodded forlornly, settling himself on his left side so that he wouldn't have to see the disappointment etched into his lover's face. Images of a promising future with the man had all but evaporated under the weight of what Sam feared was the inevitable, the forces that pulled them farther and farther apart strengthening to the point where the invisible rope attached to the waists of both men was seconds away from being completely tethered, permanently separating twin souls that ached to be one.

Sam closed his eyes as the October wind rustled falling leaves outside his bedroom window, silently praying for the strength to resist temptation forced upon him by the mystery man living inside his head. He ignored the fire that raged within his loins at the memories of soft kisses and sweet words, forcing himself to think of the life he knew he wanted with Ambrose as he eventually fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of nothing but the man lying peacefully beside him.

* * *

Sam looked up at the glittering stars above his head in silence, the 2,900-square-foot beach house behind him long forgotten as he contemplated his life beneath the pinkish glow of the Californian skies. He couldn't find it in himself to abolish the memories of soft fingertips against his skin, of the seductive whispers burning hot in his eager ears, words spoken with a voice that demanded every drop of innocence Sam had to offer. He couldn't understand how a man so dark could inspire feelings of such intense passion from someone like him who believed those emotions should only belong to the person you loved. Was he naïve enough to believe that lust only existed for the soul destined to become one with your own? Did he think that he could force himself to conjure up those very same emotions for Ambrose?

Ambrose was posing more of a problem for Sam than he ever thought possible. How could he give him the desire he so desperately wanted from Sam when all he had to give was already being siphoned out of him by the strange man living within the deepest recesses of Sam's mind? How is it possible that such a man could steal all of Sam's kisses when he already had someone who would have turned the entire world inside out just to make him happy? All of these questions demanded an answer that Sam could not give, perplexity twisting his life into intricate knots of self-doubt that he found impossible to unravel. What would he become if he couldn't allow himself the pleasure of fulfillment through the body and mind of another? Would he be alone forever? Or would his admiration for the man who shared his bed override his yearning for something more, something that he felt was too far out of his reach?

"Samuel? What are you doing out here?"

Sam turned to smile at Eva Tuckerman, Ambrose's middle-aged, yet strikingly beautiful mother. From the strawberry blonde hair that fell down her shoulders in soft, wispy curls of gold, to the blue-green eyes that sparkled relentlessly in the sunlight, Eva seemed to shine with a radiance usually reserved for women half her age. She looked about ten times younger than her fifty years, the only wrinkles she sported residing in the vague lines above her brow that crinkled slightly in the direction of her nose. Her blue dress clung to every curve effortlessly, the slip cut just far enough that the perfectly toned shape of her thigh was visible whenever she so much as took one step forward. The waves that bathed the sandy shore slid underneath her cerulean high heels as she stood next to Sam and looked out across the deep blue waters surrounding her home, her expression resembling that of someone lost in the depths of her own consciousness.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Sam followed her gaze and smiled. "Yeah, it is. I wish I could enjoy it."

Eva turned to glance his way before refocusing her attention to the scenery in front of her. The subdued colors of the sunset played across her face in a mirage of tinted hues bright enough to be noticed, yet dull enough that the results weren't blinding to Sam's abused eyes.

"You know, Sam…I used to be like you. I married Ted at a very young age. It was only a month into our relationship that I became pregnant with Ambrose. He was the only reason I had gotten married in the first place. Boy, let me tell ya; I was so scared. Believe me, I know what it's like to doubt everything you thought you knew, the so-called "facts" of your life that you were so sure you could rely on. I remember looking at Ted the night of our consummation, when I was lying in bed drenched in my own sweat, and thinking to myself, 'How the hell did I get here? What am I doing with this man? Do I even love him? Does he love me? Why am I…questioning everything?' I ended up going for a long walk, all the while thinking I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I thought about leaving him and never coming back, annulling my marriage and disposing of the baby I wasn't so sure I actually wanted."

Sam listened in silence, his attention so riveted on her that for a moment, he could have sworn he actually forgot to breathe.

"But then something happened. I…went back. Something in my head told me that the answer was right in front of me the whole time and I just didn't see it. I walked right back into that house and do you know what I saw? Ted was sitting at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands…crying. In his lap was the pillow I had slept with, soaked right through with the evidence of his sorrow. He thought I'd left, Sam. He thought I'd left and he couldn't take it. Looking at him like that…it was then that I knew I could never leave him. I was just scared of what the future was going to hold, of the things he made me feel. I convinced myself that everything was a big mistake and that I didn't really love him because I was afraid to let go and become vulnerable to someone who deep down I knew affected me so intensely that if he wanted to, he could reach inside my chest and rip out my heart."-Eva turned to take Sam's face in both of her hands, looking up at him with a sad smile- "Sometimes we let go of the things we love because we're afraid of being hurt. We wonder what's going to happen years down the road and get lost in the possibility of failure and unhappiness. Don't let your nagging self-doubts and fear of rejection and vulnerability get in the way of your destiny, Sam. Embrace the present, because life is too short to waste on caution. Live for the here and now because before you know it, everything will be over and you'll be lying on your death-bed regretting all the hours you let slip through your fingers when you could have lived for the moment and seized the opportunity for adventure and excitement. Don't deny your right to a good life, kiddo. You deserve it. Figure out what's going on between you and my son and go out there and  _live_."

Sam could feel the tears stinging his eyes as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, sniffling shamelessly against her cool skin. The wisdom of the woman before him always managed to penetrate every barrier guarding the heart he'd tried so hard to protect, instilling hope inside of him so strong, his whole body became revitalized with the healing powers of her infectious energy. It was then that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that whatever it was he was going through, he'd get through it all as long as he had her by his side.

"Hey! What the hell is this? Did you invite me over here for the weekend to steal my boyfriend or something?"

Sam and Eva laughed at the sound of slurred words enunciated with all the grace a drunken man could muster, turning in unison to take in Ambrose's wrecked appearance. His brown hair stuck out in different directions while his lips were stained with the shade provided by the best red wine California had to offer. The white dress shirt previously hidden by the jacket of his two piece black suit was unbuttoned to just above his belly and his blue eyes squinted as he tried to focus on the pair of sober fools chuckling merrily at his expense.

"You ssshould't be laughing at me, Sssammy. You're the o-one who has to s-sleep with my drunk ass tonight."

Sam's smile turned mischievous. "Oh yeah? Well, you just try to keep me from my beauty rest. Because let me tell ya, if you wake up the next morning and find your drunken antics posted on YouTube, it sure as hell ain't gonna be my dignity shattered."

Ambrose stumbled across the sand and pulled Sam into a romantic kiss, the emotion of the moment pulling welcomingly at Sam's heart-strings. "You're cruel but I love you, Sammy."

Sam grinned. "Come on, you. Let's go mingle."

Eva and Sam exchanged knowing smiles as he made his way back to the birthday party Ted had set up for his lovely wife, her encouraging words replaying themselves in Sam's head like a broken record. All of his doubts disappeared under the new hope she'd given him, and he finally found the strength to push aside memories of dreams which had remained frozen inside his mind's eye for far too long, instead filling his thoughts with the embracing arms of the loving man beside him. He enveloped himself in the throng of people crowding the shores of Eva's beach house and completely lost track of the time governing his very existence, so absorbed was he in the seductive thrill of adventure and excitement that he didn't notice the pair of emerald eyes peering at him from the shadows, the displeased growl of their owner drowned out by the laughter ringing out into the night sky.


	2. Dubious Infidelity

_Sam knew he was enveloped by sleep's suffocating embrace the moment he found himself far from the bed in which his body still resided, the leafless forest of his dreams filling him with a strange sense of dread. The silence of his surroundings was interrupted only by the swaying of bare branches crepitating in perfect harmony with the cold October air, each gust of wind seemingly blowing a hole right through Sam's soul. Moonlight cast an ominous glow on the path existing between the rows of trees lining the edges on either side, giving the sleeping boy just enough light to maneuver his way around the woodlands besieging him. Eventually, he came to a clearing where an open space spread the forest like a lover opening the legs of their conquest, leaving the trees to encircle its rounded form. In the middle sat a small cottage surrounded by flowers of vibrant coloration, it's very existence beautifying the eerie landscape enclosing its foundation. A light shade of brown marked the thatched roof which formed an upside down V on the top of a large wooden door, giving it a fairytale like appearance. All of that, combined with the stone path leading up to what Sam could have sworn was a shelter fit for a storybook character, was far too appeasing on the eyes to resist._

_Thirty steps later and the wondering boy found himself inside his cozy abode looking around shamelessly at the interior design of his surroundings. The wooden floors creaked as Sam took a cautious walk around the living room, ceasing his movements when crackles erupted from the fireplace at the other end, red and yellow battling for dominance amidst an ocean of dancing flames. The sheepskin carpet located underneath had Sam flat on his back before he could stop himself, reveling in the feel of heated fur on his skin. He closed his eyes as relaxation blossomed around him in comforting spasms of peaceful ecstasy, his tiny whimper lost amongst the soothing sounds of the roaring fireplace. Minutes ticked by for what must have been forever, so lost was he in his own heaven that time itself didn't seem to matter anymore. It wasn't until the floor groaned in protest that Sam's eyes popped open in surprise, the realization that someone else was in the room with him forcing the weight of his upper body on his elbows to peer curiously at the sight before him._

_Sam sprang up as soon as hazel clashed with deep emerald orbs that remained far too familiar for his liking, the barest hint of guilt at the arousal creeping up his spine overshadowed by longing so keen, it was a wonder his knees didn't buckle under the force of its intensity. A sigh of unbearable lust surged from the deepest recesses of his very soul, its emergence creating an invisible tether which wrapped around both men and drew them closer together in a cocoon of suppressed desire, tying one to the other for all eternity. A combination of fear and excitement injected itself into Sam's veins, instilling its life force within every inch of his very being._

" _It's you again," he exclaimed breathlessly, trailing his eyes up and down the man's clothed form._

_Sam's muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt as the man took a couple of steps forward, stopping dead in his tracks at the unpleasant reaction. The close proximity of their bodies forced an involuntary shiver down Sam's torso, every nerve ending he possessed burning with unquenchable need. Two sets of pupils expanded as both lovers stared the other down, electricity sparking between them like the incessant crackling of convulsing fireworks lighting up the night sky._

" _Sammy," the man hissed lustily, crossing the distance between them in three long strides of purposeful movement._

_The sudden heat of his lover's body had Sam gasping in surprise, foreheads pressed together as the stranger gazed deeply into his frightened eyes. Inexperienced fingers fisted the lapels of the man's long black coat in a deathlike grip, the owner of the trembling hands desperately trying to clear the hazy thoughts plaguing his bewildered mind. A brief recollection of a different face fought to take root inside of his consciousness, but the memory found itself brutally rebuffed as soft, full lips met the tip of a rounded nose, short-circuiting Sam's overworked brain and replacing the vague image of who he now knew to be Ambrose with warm breath ghosting over his skin in soothing sensations ensnaring his greedy senses._

" _My sweet Samuel. My ravishing flower. Your body calls to me, my love. It aches for my touch. Can you hear it, darling?"_

_Sam stared at him through half-hooded eyelids, the intoxicating aroma of peaches and cream invading his nostrils the same way it'd done many times before this night, when the encompassing hallucinations plaguing his head drowned him in a sea of perpetual lust so excruciatingly potent, it was a wonder he even found the strength to wake up at all._

" _Why are you haunting me?" Sam whimpered pitifully, the helplessness he felt making it hard for him to breathe._

_The eyebrows of his lover drifted upwards in an expression of surprise, his face contorting in something akin to pain._

" _I'm…haunting you?" he asked incredulously. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through all these years, Samuel? For two centuries, I've watched and waited for you. I have…_ _ **ached**_ _for your soul to return to the place inside of mine where it belongs, to retrieve that which had been brutally taken from me. After all this time, my search has finally led me to my most prized possession, and I will_ _ **not**_ _let you slip away, not after all the trouble I've gone through to find you."_

" _I…I don't understand. You're not making any sense. Can't you just go away? Why do you have to torture me so?"_

_The persistent man before him growled, the very sound stunning Sam into silence. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself sitting atop a table in front of the fireplace, the hips of his lovely admirer resting comfortably between his spread legs. Rough hands reached around to grab his lower back and press their bodies flush together, the evidence of the man's arousal digging into the heat of his own._

" _Do you feel that, Samuel?" he asked. "Do you even have the slightest idea what you do to me? It's_ _ **you**_ _who's torturing_ _ **me**_ _. I can't tell you how many times I've laid in bed at night dreaming about your touch, your taste…your fuck."_

_His last word was uttered so quietly, and with such anguish, it took away the very breath Sam had fought so hard to hold onto. Tears fell in thin rivulets down his damp cheeks, the feel of them strange and foreign, yet somehow familiar in a way that he didn't understand. His breaths became labored with the force of his agony, the pain made all the more excruciating by the sadness he could see reflected off the deep green irises of his handsome lover._

" _I want to be inside of you, Samuel," the man whispered shakily, licking away Sam's tears while ignoring his own. "Give in to me."_

_Sam's response was cut off by an insistent tongue sliding between his soft lips, their moans entwining together in an erotic symphony of unbearable sensuality. He barely registered the arms that lifted him off the table until he felt the soft fur of the rug beneath his aching back, gasping in lust and arching his body as both sides of his shirt was gripped by his lover's hands and pulled in opposite directions, buttons flying in the air while the material was ripped roughly from his heaving chest, exposing his skin to the warmth of the roaring fireplace. A tight suction immediately latched on to one of his pebbled nipples, the pleasurable sensation making his eyes roll back in his head as a loud exhale escaped from his trembling lips in sheer bliss. His efforts to form a single cohesive thought disintegrated immediately when his pants were pulled down around his ankles and the erect shaft pressed against the rounded curve of his belly was engulfed by a feeling so intense, Sam's hips bucked automatically as he struggled to distance himself form the agonizing contraction of his lover's muscles. His wild thrashing proved fruitless as an inhuman snarl tore from the man's throat, hollowing his cheeks in response and holding Sam's cock firmly inside his warm mouth. His protests eventually dissolved into whimpered sobs that sounded as if he were in excruciating pain, his entire body going lax as he gave in to the pleasure the man was gifting him with. His lover lifted his head up slowly before enveloping him once more, repeating the action over and over until Sam's thighs began to shake uncontrollably. Heat pooled in between his spread legs as he drew closer to completion, his impending orgasm bringing a recollection with it that came in the form of an unfamiliar name which sent shivers through every inch of his sensitive flesh. An explosion of rhythmic contractions pulsed inside of his tumescent loins as his thoughts came to the surface, spilling out of his mouth in repetitive cries of euphoric rapture. What took so long for him to comprehend settled immediately into the mind of his lover, who halted his movements just as the last of the aftershocks began to fade from his softening member._

_A sound in the distance had Sam's eyes fluttering open as the sight of his admirer's face became distorted, fragmented pieces splitting apart and reframing themselves into abstract shapes of meaningless drivel. Through the haze of unintelligible visions, the sound became more pronounced, calling out his name until he had no choice but to answer._

" _I'm waking up, aren't I?" he asked the mess of jumbled images before him._

_As he ascended into the realm of consciousness, the last thing he heard was his lover's voice begging him to repeat the name he'd cried out in ecstatic bliss, the command obeyed when he shot up in bed with an audible gasp, the word falling from his lips like a declaration shouted into the bottomless pit of an unremitting universe._

"Dean!"

Sam fought to keep his breathing under control as his brain reprogrammed itself to the present, repeatedly blinking his confusion into the guest bedroom of Eva's beach house until recognition settled into his bewildered mind. His body relaxed and fought the unbearable urge to fall back to sleep, remorse setting in for waking up when his lover so obviously wanted him to stay within the clutches of his vivid dream.

 _Dean_. He should have been happy that he'd finally given a name to the man who's haunted his dreams since he was thirteen, but instead he just felt…perplexed. How is it possible that one person could have countless visions of the same guy when he wasn't even real? And why did he insist on Sam calling him by that name alone? He seemed almost…joyful at Sam's revelation, like he'd been waiting for Sam to remember it for a very long time. But how can he remember something that didn't exist until his subconscious created it?

A shuffling to his right brought Sam out of his troubled thoughts, guilt pouring off of him in waves as he took in the form of his boyfriend sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, staring at Sam as if he'd just said something incredibly painful.

"Breakfast is ready," he said, getting up and disappearing down the hall before Sam could reply.

 _Great_ , he thought to himself.  _So much for a stress free weekend._

* * *

Thick clouds of a metaphorical storm brewed overhead as the awkward silence was filled by hushed whispers and fleeting glances, uncertainty cutting through Sam like a bloodthirsty blade. He could sense a growing void between him and Ambrose that he hated with every fiber of his being, each pained expression overtaking the other man's features sending sparks of unbearable agony coursing through the cavernous depths of his blood stained heart. Minutes ticked by at a snail's pace, dragging out the tension etched into the atmosphere like a tattoo, threatening to throw both men overboard into a sea of despair. It wasn't until nightfall reigned upon the bleary skies that Ambrose blew up in Sam's face, conveying his displeasure with frantic gestures and thunderous growls.

"What the fuck, Sam?" he screamed, knocking over a lamp on the nightstand. "What the hell else did he do to you in your dream, huh? Did he fuck you?"

Sam put his head down in shame, praying for the strength to survive what he knew would be a losing battle. "He gave me pleasure with his mouth."

The horrified look he got in return for his honesty would have been laughable had it not torn at Sam's insides like an animalistic beast intent on devouring his very soul, making every effort he'd put into extricating Dean from his mind seem inefficacious and futile. He'd tried so hard to be a good boyfriend to Ambrose, but it appeared that he was incapable of promising any kind of commitment to him as long as he still had that demon walking around inside his head, giving him pleasure he'd never known existed. But, while Dean may have been responsible for his fluctuating emotions, he still felt a deep connection to Ambrose that he couldn't just will away. The idea of losing him was a bitter pill to swallow, and Sam didn't think he'd be able to survive if the love of his life left without so much as a glance in his direction.

"Sucked you off, did he? Well, for a nineteen-year old boy who's never had an orgasm, that must have been a pretty memorable experience. I sure as hell wish I could have taken credit for bringing you that kind of ecstasy but you won't let me anywhere near your body long enough to place a kiss to your traitorous lips. Boy, am I sure glad you woke up when you did because lord knows it wouldn't have taken that asshole any time at all to stick his cock up your ass."

"It never would have went that far," Sam whispered, tears falling down his face as he stared at the ground beneath his feet.

"The hell it wouldn't have!" Ambrose roared, stalking up to Sam and grabbing him by the arms. "You have refused all of my attempts to bring you the kind of pleasure you willingly give up to a nonexistent fantasy in your dreams. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? What the hell is so wrong with me that you can't even stand to be naked in the same room with me? Am I not attractive enough for you? Do I not deliver the right amount of charm necessary to win you over? You had better make up your mind about what it is you want, Sam, because I can't do this anymore!"

Sam's eyes widened in terror at his lover's words, the threat of abandonment forcing him on his knees at Ambrose's feet. "No, please! Oh god, please don't leave me! I'm so sorry, Ambrose. You've got to believe me! I don't know why this keeps happening to me but I swear to you that if I could make it so that all my dreams evaporated in a puff of smoke, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I curse the day this all started. I love you so much! Give me another chance. If you love me, please! Please, give me another chance! I'll never sleep again, if that's what it takes. Give me a chance and I'll do whatever it takes to stop dreaming of Dean. I'll do it. I swear, I will!"

Something about Ambrose's face changed at that moment. It was subtle at first, yet translucent enough to make an impression upon the perspicacious teenager. Surprise sprinkled with a touch of anger and disgust contorted his features for the briefest of seconds before disappearing behind a mask of feigned impassiveness. Gesturing for Sam to rise from his place on the floor, he immediately pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead, wrapping him up in his arms and whispering soothing words of comfort in his eager ears. Ignoring the confusion stirring inside of him, Sam took comfort in his boyfriend's embrace, trying to block out the memory of Dean's mouth so soft and sweet between his quivering thighs.

"Okay, Sam," Ambrose replied, breaking the silence. "I'll give you another chance because I love you so much. But you have to give me something to work with, baby."

Sam gazed deeply into bright blue eyes that could charm the light right out of the moon, smiling up at the love of his life as he whispered, "I'll let you sleep naked with me tonight. Would that be a start?"

Ambrose flashed him a mischievous grin, their problems all but gone as he lifted him up and carried him to the king-sized bed in the center of the room, collapsing on top of the mattress and tickling Sam until he burst into raucous laughter.

"I think that can be arranged."

* * *

Ambrose watched as the sleeping boy beside him fluttered his eyelashes in a childlike display of impeccable innocence, soft, pink lips parting to accommodate his boyfriend's tongue as it slid inside the wet cavern greedily, gathering up the sweet taste of honey that comprised Sam's delicious saliva. He couldn't ever get enough of the boy's sleepy kisses, and being able to scoot this close to the young man without rejection was a rare gift that Ambrose took full advantage of when confronted by his lover's unconscious state.

After minutes of incomparable bliss, Ambrose reluctantly parted from his beautiful lover and made his way down the hallway to his father's study, grabbing the cell phone that rested on the mahogany desk and punching in an important number with careful precision. His face contorted into a scowl as a gruff voice picked up on the fifth ring, the sound of it never-failing to annoy the shit out of him. Blue eyes looked in the direction of the bedroom where Sam was sleeping as he conversed with the man on the other end, determination flooding through him as sharp fangs descended from his aching gums.

"Pachenka? Find someplace quiet where you can talk. I've got a problem."


	3. Pachenka

* * *

**August 3rd, 1813**

* * *

Two hundred years ago, underneath the scorching heat of the Louisiana sun, Dean wiped the sweat off his brow as he worked the fields of his family's land while his brother Samuel sat in an old rickety chair on the front porch of their southern plantation, his nimble fingers turning the pages of a leather-bound book that had captured his attention for the last five and a half days. Dean watched his brother's eyebrows contort in sadness, his bottom lip trembling as he absorbed himself in the heartbreak written within the contents of his brown tome. Sunlight cast its shine on the brown bangs plastered to his forehead, clinging to tanned skin Dean wanted so badly to feel beneath his fingertips. Crystal droplets fell down scarlet cheeks, and the way the boy clasped desperately to the inanimate object in his hands had Dean burning with a hidden envy no amount of sunshine could ever hope to emulate.

 _He spends more time with that thing than he does his own flesh and blood_ , Dean thought jealously.

As if by some form of magic binding their emotions together, the pensive boy suddenly glanced up from his book to peer curiously at his scowling brother. A knowing little smile upturned his lips, and before Dean knew what was happening, his precious Samuel was gathering him up in a bone crushing bear hug, the strength of the boy's embrace absolving his lungs of their life-sustaining responsibilities. Dean's arms found their way around Samuel's middle, reveling in the feel of their bodies pressed as close as he would ever allow, though he'd be a liar if he said he didn't desire more than what he was willing to take. Samuel's scent was intoxicating, a collaborative blend of raindrops and coconut that sent his senses into overdrive, forcing his nose into the soft wisps of curls situated at the top of his brother's head. He felt the boy smile at the action, and he pulled away to drown in the depths of dark hazel eyes made bright by the amber rays of the mid afternoon sun.

"You were reading," he murmured dreamily.

"You noticed?" Samuel teased.

"What I meant was that your reading has deprived me of your presence, sweet Samuel."

"But I'm right here," he replied.

"Are you? You seem so far away to me."

"I've neglected you," Samuel stated matter-of-factly.

Dean smiled. "Just a bit. But you can spend the rest of the day making it up to me, if you like."

Samuel tilted his head and mouth to the side in opposite directions, squinting up at the sky as if deep in thought. This elaborate display of simulated cogitation allowed Dean's true feelings to form through an influx of facial expressions which until now had managed to stay hidden from view. Had the boy decided to turn his head back in his brother's direction a split second before he actually did, he would have seen a salacious craving reflecting through Dean's hungry eyes, darkening the green orbs eagerly devouring his sinewy form. But fate was kind to Dean, and he was able to school his features into something he hoped resembled impassiveness by the time Samuel refocused his attentions on his love stricken admirer. Grabbing Dean by the hand, Samuel guided him away from the house until he found himself walking along a dirt road leading to the heart of town.

"I suppose I could be persuaded to put aside my book," Samuel responded. "If you agree to read it when I'm done."

Dean made a face, sensing their playful banter was coming to an end. "You know I don't like romances, brother. Too much emotion is a terrible thing. It makes you weak."

"That's our father speaking through you, you know."

"This has nothing to do with John. It's the truth. Think of what would happen if we were taken hostage by the infamous Phoenix brothers. I would be at a loss about what to do because you'd be there. My emotions would cloud my judgment."

Samuel grinned. "Does this mean you love me, big brother?"

Dean sighed in feigned annoyance. "I suppose so, yes."

Samuel laughed, the sound as beautiful to Dean's ears as the music his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. He got so lost in his brother's voice that it took him a minute to realize they were no longer moving. Somewhere along the line, Samuel had stopped walking, and his happy smile transformed into a scowl at something in the distance.

"Great," Samuel muttered. "Father's here."

Dean followed his gaze and groaned. He recognized the scar of one of the horses, a long line going from the eye all the way to the nose. This ominous deformity signaled the arrival of a man whose disposition equaled that of a roaring lion; loud and dangerous.

Dean stepped in front of his brother as the carriage carrying John came to a stop beside them, shielding him from the older man's critical stare. Poking his head out of the window, John growled at his oldest son.

"What the hell are you two doing out here? Don't you both know there are robbers on the loose?"

"We're sorry, sir. It's my fault. I wanted to go for a walk."

John's eyes narrowed. "You wanted to go for a walk, eh? You sure the idea didn't belong to the boy behind you?"

Dean ignored the clenching of Samuel's fists as he squeezed the life out of his brother's white shirt, unable to soothe the boy when confronted with a building rage he could see simmering beneath the surface of his father's cracked veneer.

"Samuel had nothing to do with this, sir. Like I said, it was my fault. He was only accompanying me because I asked him to."

John didn't seem completely satisfied with Dean's answer, but waved his hand dismissively all the same. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get inside, both of you. I'm on my way home and these roads are no place for a teenage boy and his idiotic older brother."

Samuel made a move to confront his father, but Dean stopped him.

"Please, don't make this worse," he whispered. "Let's just go home."

Samuel looked like he was going to say something, but cut himself off at the last minute. Nodding reluctantly, he followed his brother into the carriage that would take them to the one place he never seemed to want to be: home.

* * *

"Dammit, Dean! Why do you always follow John's ridiculous orders? Why can't you ever just side with me?"

Dean kept his back to Samuel as the door slammed shut behind him, unable to bear the torment in his brother's face. "You know I hate it when you call him by his name. I know he's a pain in the ass, but he's the only father we've got."

"No. As far as I'm concerned, Robert is the closest thing I've ever had to an actual father. The entire time he screamed at me, you didn't so much as flinch. Not once! You didn't stick up for me, you didn't defend me. All you did was nod like a good little soldier every time he gave you a direct order. And what is up with you agreeing to keep me locked up here, huh? What are you gonna do? Tie me to the bedpost so I can't leave? You agreed to keep me a prisoner in my own house!"

Dean whipped around to face his brother, recoiling as if he'd been slapped in the face. He knew Samuel was mad at him, but being yelled at by the only thing in this world that mattered to him, and then having his sweet Samuel imply that he didn't care about his welfare, was too much for him to handle. Blowing out a shaky breath through his nose, he slowly advanced on his brother, pain travelling through every nerve ending before implanting itself into his aching heart.

"So, Robert's the closest thing you've ever had to a father, huh? What about me? Have I not devoted my entire life to your happiness? Have I not done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Samuel? I sacrificed my entire childhood for you. Trust me, if I agreed to anything that I thought for one second might upset you, there was a reason for it."

"Really?" Samuel asked, anger only marginally deflating at the sight of his brother's anguish. "And, pray, tell me what might that be? Because I've tried to come up with every possible scenario that could justify you betraying me the way you just did, and I haven't been able to conjure up a goddamn thing! How could you do this to me, De? How?!"

"Samuel, I know you don't want to hear this, but John is right. We have no business being out when those bastards are still roaming the streets! Plus, I knew that defying father would inevitably cause more harm than good, and I wanted to spare you from the wrath I knew he would have inflicted upon you had I not interceded on your behalf. Having you here makes it easier for me to protect you."

"I don't need protecting! I can take care of myself! I'm so sick of everyone here treating me as if I'm some fragile being who can't make my own decisions. This is just an excuse you've conjured up in the hopes that I'll be naïve enough to believe that you did this for my own good. I know the real reason behind all of this, and it's that son of a bitch you call a father. You just can't find it in your heart to stick up to him, can you? Does his approval really mean that much to you that you would turn against your own brother to appease your childish need for daddy's approval?"

Dean took a cup off the nightstand and threw it on the floor, shattering the glass into tiny fragments. "Goddamn you, Samuel! I have had just about enough of your bullshit. All I ever do is hear you bitch and moan about father. Did you ever stop to think about how that could be effecting me? You two are all I have in this world and all you ever do is fight. I don't understand what more you want from me, Samuel."

"I want you to put me first!" Samuel yelled.

Dean stared at his brother incredulously. "Put you first? When you were a child and our house burnt down, I was four years old. Father placed you in my arms and declared me your guardian. From that moment on, you were my responsibility. I didn't even have time to mourn the loss of our mother because I was too busy caring for you. The fact that I was a child myself didn't seem to faze father. He'd come home in a drunken stupor, grab me by the collar and tell me to watch out for you. Everywhere I went, I could hear John's voice like an echo in my brain. 'Watch out for Sammy, boy. Take care of your little brother. He belongs to you now.' Twenty one years on this earth and the ONLY thing I have to show for it is  _you_. It's always been about you, so don't you  _dare_  tell me I don't put you first because I do. I  _always_  do."

Samuel's shoulders slumped in defeat as Dean's words lingered between them, turning to gaze at himself through the long mirror leaning against the bedroom wall.

"I'm sorry," he whispered miserably.

Dean sighed in regret, hating himself for making his brother so unhappy. In that moment, he couldn't think of anyone on God's green earth that he resented more than his father. John always had the uncanny ability to put a great amount of distance between Dean and Samuel, making it that much harder for Dean to breathe. His source of pleasure and pain stood before him a broken boy, and Dean feared that not even he could repair the damage done to his beloved Samuel. It was an unsettling feeling, one that Dean couldn't bear to live with. He knew he had to do something to make his brother see reason. Otherwise, he'd be lost to him forever.

With the most cautious of steps, Dean slowly approached the love of his life with shaking hands, wrapping his fingers around slender arms he could still feel surrounding him the way they did just hours before. He locked gazes with Samuel through the glass, brushing his lips against the boy's neck as he spoke.

"The amulet you gave me when we were children; I still carry it over my heart. Do you know why?"

Samuel shook his head, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Because you gave it to me. Because I love you so damn much I feel like I can't breathe without you. I can't think without you. I can't  _exist_  without you."

Dean's breaths quickened with desire, his whispers becoming shaky with the force of his passion.

"You and I are one, Samuel. There's nowhere you can hide from me. You belong to me, and I'll never let you go. I keep this amulet over my heart because that's your home, Sammy. Whenever we're apart, you're never really gone. You're always right there"-Dean's right hand slid inside his brother's open shirt, resting his palm over Samuel's heart-"and I'm right here. I'll always be with you, beside you... _inside_  you."

Samuel smiled at Dean in the mirror through tear-stained eyes, completely oblivious to the lust mingled in with his brother's gesture of affection.

"I love you, Dean," he whispered.

Dean forced his incestuous feelings to the deepest recesses of his tortured soul, returning Samuel's smile with an intensity that alarmed him.

_This boy is mine. He'll always be mine._

"I love you too, Sammy. Always."

* * *

**Present Day**

* * *

The swamps of the Louisiana bayou rippled with the strokes of alligators as they swam menacingly in the murky waters of New Orléans, their bony plated bodies protruding to let their master know of their ominous presence. Piercing eyes the color of bronze watched with an almost morbid fascination, the long piece of bark he used as a walking stick twirling relentlessly between long, bony fingers. The multicolored feathers framing his head, combined with the blue eye shadow and white lipstick painting his face, conspired to give him an extremely exotic appearance that made people think of the Aboriginal tribes of Australia, a comparison that never failed to make him grin in amusement. The strips of brown cloth hanging loosely on his hips were the only clothing he owned, leaving his chocolate skin exposed to the elements. It was with this look of wild abandon that he made his mark on the world, earning himself a grim reputation as the town nut job.

But while he seemed to be less than popular among his fellow residents, he still obtained a fair amount of visitors in his quaint little swamp, each person who dared step foot on his land begging him for something he gladly provided in exchange for an object of value from whoever came seeking his help. Everything he offered almost always came with a price. However, there was one person who remained an almost irritating exception to this rule, calling on him when he least expected it and turning his peaceful existence upside down. It was this person that inevitably disrupted the peace and quiet good ol' Pachenka was trying to enjoy in the sweltering heat of the Louisiana bayou, causing an incessant ringing to erupt from the cell phone residing inside his log cabin.

Approaching the front door with cautious steps, Pachenka breached the entranceway and grinned wickedly at the phone before picking it up and answering in as civil a tone as a crazy man like him could manage.

"Yeees?"

"Pachenka? Find someplace quiet where you can talk. I've got a problem."

"This is as quiet a place as any, sir."

A scoff registered on the other end of the line. "So . . . not out preaching of your clairvoyance, I take it."

"This is a city of wonderment, dear Ambrose. You'd be surprised at just how spiritual the locals are here."

"Humph. They'd have to be to listen to a crazy old loon like you. But that's not important to me now. You see, I've got a problem that might require your assistance, if you catch my drift."

Pachenka smiled. "What is it you need? Pig's blood? A book of spells? Perhaps a bit of good old fashion advice?"

"Actually, I was thinking of something more along the lines of a special potion. One that could-oh, I don't know-keep a person from dreaming?"

"Ah! This is for the boy, I take it?"

"You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?" Ambrose growled.

"Of course. I'm a prophet, sir. I see all. That being said, I think I can help you. Might I make a little suggestion?"

"What?"

"I think you should bring the boy here."

Pachenka imagined the disbelieving look his master was probably giving him over the phone at that very moment, the thought making him smile mischievously.

"Bring the boy there? You honestly expect me to take him to the place where it all began? Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be? What if he remembers what happened to him? What if he remembers his true identity? More importantly, what's going to happen if that bloodsucker finds him? It's too great a risk, Pachenka."

"Maybe, but at least I can help you. It's easier if you're right here, you see. Besides, it doesn't really matter where you bring the boy, now does it?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"The vampire you seek  _will_  come after the boy, Ambrose. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do. It'll be a cold day in hell before he allows that child to slip through his fingers again. I've sensed his presence for a while now. He's getting stronger, master. He's biding his time and let me tell you; when the opportunity presents itself, he will come for Samuel, and there's not a damn thing you'll be able to do about it."

Pachenka could hear something being slammed down on a hard surface, a sign of his master's growing anger.

"I don't care how powerful he is, Pachenka! I want that potion and I want it now! I will do what it takes to persuade Sam to come with me to the bayou, for you just may be right when it comes to us being closer to each other. There is strength in numbers, after all. But I'll be damned if that bastard is going to take Sam away from me. I have worked too long to let all this slip away. That boy will be mine, Pachenka. Mark my words."

Pachenka chuckled as a loud click resounded in his abused ear, putting the phone down with great care before glancing out the window at his toothy companions. The alligators were circling around a fish that had ventured into their part of the swap, diving in as one and ripping it apart. Their act of violence stained the green waters red, the carnage reminding the bayou owner of the upcoming war he could feel brewing between the Kalek and the Shintari. He should have known the ancient feud would extinguish any hope of retaining the truce put in place over 10,000 years ago. This tug of war for the Colt boy was nothing more than a catalyst for something bigger, a battle of epic proportions that would start with two vampires intent on claiming ownership of a mere mortal on the verge of achieving nirvana. It looked like things were beginning to turn out just as he'd imagined it, making him realize that there was only one thing left for him to do.

Snatching the phone back from the table on which it sat, he dialed a number he'd been given for a special purpose and waited patiently until the growling voice of a very grumpy vampire answered on the third ring. Pachenka grinned as he walked outside, sitting on a dilapidated wooden chair and looking out at the great expanse of his beloved bayou.

"Oh, vampire? Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I think it's imperative that you get your ass down here right away."

There was a rustling on the other end of the line as Dean shot straight up in bed. "What's wrong?"

"He's found you out," Pachenka replied, watching the rippling water bubble from the breaths of his prized gator. "It's time."

Dean growled low in his throat before hanging up, leaving a chuckling Pachenka to bask in his own glee.

 _Well_ , he thought to himself.  _Looks like things are finally starting to get interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so, so very sorry that this chapter took forever. Work has been such a pain in my rear end that they actually scheduled me for a weekend that I had off without even asking me. I haven't had much time to write, but I'm happy to inform you that I spent a lot of time editing this chapter so hopefully there are zero mistakes. I recently read a couple of articles on purple prose and you would not believe the negative things people have said about my favorite style of writing. I may not agree with a lot of it, but I now know that too much of it can be excessive and overwhelming. I went back to all my other stories and my first thought was, "What the hell have I been doing to my readers?!" I'm deeply sorry if my writing has been less than perfect. It's what happens when you're still learning. In any event, I tried to cut it down this time so that it's not so over the top. Hope you like it. R&R! =)


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